


Blood and Thanksgiving

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Explicit Language, Fights, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you like to talk about what happened last night?” Dean knew really that Sam would definitely not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Thanksgiving

Dean rested his beat up boots on the edge of the wooden table in front of him. Motel T.V playing out the Thanksgiving parade while the picture rolled as if it was the 1950's.

“Dean. I don't even know how you can watch anything on that TV.”

“Sammy. It's Thanksgiving and I believe it's my right as an American and might I add a defender of this great land to enjoy the Thanksgiving parade. Please shut up.” Dean gave Sam a snarky smile then continued to sip his beer.

They had been pissed with one another all morning. Thanksgiving always made them feel like this. Deans' answer was to drink from dawn until dusk and torment his baby brother.

“It's really early to be drinking,” Sam muttered as he laid back on his bed with a book.

Dean turned slightly.

“What are you doing, huh? Are we playing some weird role-playing game where you're the wife and I'm the henpecked husband? Because if we are. You're really good at it,” He turned back to the TV. “Jesus, Sammy. Learn to enjoy your time off. It's a holiday for crying out loud!”

“Drinking at 10 am isn't really the essence of what Thanksgiving is about, Dean.”

Dean bit down on his bottom lip with agitation. He chose not to respond.

Ten minutes later he turned again, slowly this time, the fake leather chair creaking as he did. He watched Sam read for a moment, he was frowning. Dean noticed that Sam often frowned when he read.

“Hey! Frowny!” 

Sam looked up and sighed. Dean was swaying a little.

“Would you like to talk about what happened last night?” Dean knew really that Sam would definitely not.

Sam shook his head and scoffed.

“Dean. It's Thanksgiving. Just carry on watching TV. I'm not in the mood for this right now.”

“Why are you so fixed on today? Huh? Why should today be so special for us? I hate to break it to you baby brother, but today is just another shitty, fucked up day for the Winchesters',” He motioned toward the TV. “That is what normal people do. They watch the parade on their big ass flat screen TV's, eat loads of home cooked food with their families and then talk about how thankful they are that they have 50” inches of TV screen and Goddamn people to watch it with. You hear me, Sammy? We ain't got nothing to be thankful for. Quit bitchin!”

Sam slammed his book shut.

“Spoken like a true cynic, Dean. Well done!”

Dean stood up.

“I swear to God Sam. Will you just shut the hell up. It's always you, isn't it? Always Sam seeing good in the world, even after everything. Always Sam ready to take the moral high-ground!” He wasn't shouting. But his voice had become gravelly and low. A sure sign he was super pissed.

“Huh! Me? Take the moral high-ground? Seriously Dean, you know, yeah. I do want to talk about last night. Oh and what happened? Oh yeah. You took it this time. You made the decision for me. How was the moral high ground then, Dean? High enough for you?!”

Dean threw his half empty beer bottle towards Sam, missing his brother by mere inches and hitting the wall with a liquid crunch.

Dean paused before he spoke. Desperately trying to find some modicum of composure. It had been a tough subject, insomuch that it hadn't been discussed at all.

“Okay. I didn't want to do this. I don't just mean today, Sam. I mean, ever. Never, ever did I want to have a conversation with my own brother about how he wants to..” Dean paused.

Sam raised his eyebrows and folded his arms slowly. Dean always thought he looked quite camp when he did that.

“And you don't?” Sam blinked slowly as he spoke.

Yeah, Dean thought. That was also pretty camp.

“I..I ain't gonna deny, it's been difficult and weird and God, Sam, I don't know what else. We just ain't focused on anything else, that's why all this shit is happening.”

Sam cocked his head to one side then took one step towards his brother. Dean held out a hand and stepped back just as far.

“Don't do this, Sammy.”

Sam took another step.

“Just try it, Dean. Please?”

Dean took yet another step backward but hit the partition wall dividing their room from the bathroom. It wobbled a little as he pressed his palm against it. His other hand held out towards his brother. Sam slowly grasped his wrist, wrapping one long finger at a time around it, the tips detecting Deans' quickening pulse.

“I'm sick of pretending, Dean.” Sam unfurled his fingers from around his brother's wrist and brought it to his mouth. Dean was frigid with fear and had been completely silenced. Not by what could possibly now happen but by Sams' presence.  
He could pick his baby brother out from a picture of millions. A face and body so familiar to him but now, now it was different. Now, Sam was different as he pressed his slightly open mouth against Deans' trembling wrist. He didn't kiss it. It was a test. A test Dean passed as he grabbed the back of Sams' hair quicker than he had ever drawn a gun, gripping a handful in his fist, then yanking it hard with every word.

“Say. It.”

Sam winced as Dean readjusted the grip on his brother's hair. Pulling it harder.

“You want this, Sammy. Ask me for it!”

Sam whimpered, his neck shrinking into his shoulder, hands pushing at Deans' body. Dean was looking crazy now as Sams' chest pressed up against him. Both of them were breathing heavily. Short ragged breaths, neither could release themselves from the others stubborn grasp. Both achingly aroused. Sam pleading. Dean doing is fucking hardest to resist.

“Dean,” Sam muttered, his hands and arms twisting against his brother's skin. It felt sore, his elbow was contorting, his forearm being dragged away in another direction. His frustration was like a heavy foot on the gas. Revving up the power to overcome. He was so angry. Madder than he had ever been with the one person he could trust with everything. From the pit of his stomach, a roar emanated and then with one firm, steady bolt he headbutted his brother square on the nose.

Dean groaned with pain as his nose begun to bleed out instantly.

“FUCK!” Blood everywhere as Sam gave up and staggered backward, bent over, in pain himself. Dean spattered his brothers jeans with blood, saliva and now tears. It usually took a lot for Dean to cry, but this was something else. “Do you want to kill me, or fuck me, Sammy? Huh?” 

“It was getting stupid, Dean!” Sam was direct and assertive but marginally calmer than his brother.

Dean was hunched over, his palms pressed against the base of his thighs. Thick burgundy blood dripping onto the carpet, he eyes were tingling and full of heavy tears. He couldn't bring himself to look up, he was dizzy and couldn't bear to look at Sam right now. But he had to.

“This will end,” Dean slowly pulled himself to his full height, his mouth full with blood, teeth stained, mouth wet with spit. “This will end, NOW!” He growled and Sam jumped. Dean frowned as he watched his brother twitch and cower. He shook his head. “Our life and you cower from me, huh? Well, ain't I the lucky one. All this time we've spent going from place to place and what do you know, your biggest enemy is right here by your side. Right, Sammy? Scared of me now,” He leaned towards his baby brother, now beat and soaked in tears. “The monster in your bed!” Dean laughed. 

“You want it,” Sam spoke meekly, wrenching his sweaty hands. “You won't shut up about it.”

Dean chewed the inside of his mouth. Sam had got him, first physically and now he had mentally trapped him.

“It's just jokes, buddy.” Dean was serious now.

“It's not funny, Dean. I can't deal with you making jokes. It's real for me. And it is for you too, you just won't face it. It's your way of coping. But every time you do that. It reminds me that we're in the same place. Ex blood-junkie,” Sam shrugged. “Maybe I'm just weaker than you are.”

“I ain't the one jerking off and calling your name. Fucking your own ass and calling your name. Am I? You fucking disgust me!”

Dean was screaming and bounding toward Sam who fell back, knees buckling under him, his ass hitting the bed frame as Dean swiped across his face with the back of his hand. Sam remained still, laying back on the bed the top half of his body suspended over it. He didn't blink once, his entire body consumed with pain.

“You're all I have and I ain't about to lose that. Get your perverted kicks elsewhere.”

Sam circled a hand over his face. It stung, but he had felt worse physical pain. The mental pain, however, was giving him a strength which his brother wasn't expecting. Soon Sam was on his feet, full height, and so fucking hurt. His fist met Dean's face, his lip splitting and thus spilling more blood from his mouth. Dean grabbed the soft loose collars of Sams' shirt, tearing it away from his body.

“Don't. Fucking. Do this!” Dean was shaking Sam vigorously, blood spattering over his face. Sams' hands gripped Dean's neck and pushed him down to the floor, his knees bending slowly. They were the worst two people who could ever fight.

“Dean. Baby, please.” Sam forced Dean down and onto the floor. Face still bleeding, legs uncomfortable and bent under his body. Dean fought it, at least he thought he had. He felt weak under Sams' power and felt his body collapse completely. Sam slid between his legs, his hands still gripping his neck. One look, it was all it took. Deans' eyes filled with tears as Sam caressed Dean's bloody mouth with his lips. Dean was ridged, his green eyes wide, pupils blown.

“Sa..Sammy. Please.” Dean reached up slowly, his hand trembling. His fingers snagging clumsily at Sams' neck. He pressed his mouth against his brothers', his breathing hitching, lips still, eyes open as if he was weighing up his next move. He let out an unpleasant guttural whine then pulled at his brother, needing to feel the weight of him on his body. He gave in right at that moment and kissed back. His mouth now open, spilling metallic blood into Sams' mouth. Sam sobbed.

Their bodies became a heartbreaking mess of blood, tears, and unrequited lust. Their kissing was animalistic and raw. Sam, releasing years of need. Dean powered by adrenaline and a sleeper-cell need for his baby brother.  
Dean still tried to fight it, a hand pushing against Sams' body, the push and pull of a man out of his mind. His dick was painful, worse still as he felt unable to control rutting against Sam. Neither of them peppered their kisses with words. There was nothing either of them could say that would make the situation feel right.  
Sam reached between them, his mouth still pecking his brothers. Half out of want, half out of keeping him quiet. He wanted Dean now. He wanted to strip him and fuck him and punish him for ever denying him. Another tussle ensued as Sam yanked hard on Deans' jeans and underwear over and over until the skin on his ass and thighs had reddened and given Sam enough access to his ass.  
Dean had become a toy. A bloody, tear-soaked toy. His body was flipped, head on the mattress leaving pink streaks of blood on the bed sheets.  
“I..I don't want it like this.” Dean sobbed as Sam slid two fingers down between his ass cheeks. “Please, Sammy.” 

Sam wasn't there. Not really. He was now just a Sam-shaped figure in among a cloud of red mist. Angry, horny, hurt and in pain. Dean reached behind, his arm stiffly batting against his brother, desperate for him to stop. Sams' fingers were toying with Deans' hole, it was wet with sweat and way too tight.

“Sammy. Please, darlin'.” Dean was trapped. And there was only one thing left on earth that he could do. He wiped his face over the bed sheets and laid his cheek gently against it. “Sammy. I love you, sweetheart.”

Sam paused and was almost silent if not for the ragged breathe catching in his throat.

“Dean, that's not how I want us to be.”

“Sammy, listen to what I'm saying.” He shifted and winced. “I love you. No one else. Just you darlin'.” He hesitated. “You're the love of my life.”

Sam was frowning, his fingers still poised, his other hand gripping his brothers jeans.

“What do you mean?”

“It..it means that you're right.” Deans' body collapsed into an impetuous sob. Sam, without missing a beat, pulled his brothers' limp body up and wrapped his huge arms around him.

“Ssh, it's okay, big brother. I've got you. I always will.” Sam rocked him gently while planting affectionate kisses on his head. Sam had none enough crying over his brother and the unorthodox way he felt about him, but he was here now to carry him through his own tears. Fighting demons was one thing, fighting demons that come from within yourself was another. But the Winchesters' were more than well enough equipped to cope with this new chapter in their lives.


End file.
